


Choices

by mediaboy



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26758411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediaboy/pseuds/mediaboy
Summary: Everyone faces choices. Tonight Karrin faces an important one. An imagining of an off-screen moment of Battle Grounds.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	Choices

Karin had heard Harry talk about choices before. Not the little ones, like what toppings to stuff into your pancakes or whether to add milk to your coffee. But the big ones, things that could shape the course of your life. Things that could change destiny.

Whether to stand between the things in the shadows and reality. Whether to spit in the eye of a God. Whether to link arms with the devil incarnate to help protect a friend.

The real choices.

She was less sure that Harry realised how hard those choices might be. 6'9 and blessed with magic and the force of will to use it, Harry Dresden was a force of nature unto himself. She hadn't met his eyes yet, his warnings echoing in her ears yet, but she knew what she would see. She thought.

A man surrounded on all sides by fire with a bucket of water, working out how to douse them all. A candle light flickering in the darkness, sputtering in the wind, suddenly protected by his careful hands. A thunderstorm, crackling with power as it crashed through Chicago.

He'd changed. He'd made choices. Sometimes she had made them with him, or for him, or because of him. Sometimes he hadn't changed for the better.

The door slammed open as yet another trembling body crawled through the doors shaking and shivering in the wake of the forced beyond the house. Mac grunted a rough hello as wind whipped around the room, chilling everyone to their bones. God, how her bones hurt.

"Door."

Mac was never a man of many words. 

The newcomer feebly pushed it shut, and the moment the door met the frame you could feel something settle into place. Protection, safety, shelter. Mac's hands cleaned another glass as Murphy stared at the door unseeing.

Maybe that was the point. Choices led to changes. To consequences. She knew about those. He had made them painfully clear. 

_ You're slowing me down _ .

It had been her fear. Her fear for a long time. As she grew slow and he grew strong. As she grew sore and he gained more. Always more. Enough to start and end a war. Enough to come back from the dead. Enough to stare down the man who ruled the city in all but name and perhaps now even in that. She was good. She had trained to be better. Kincaid had helped. But putting yourself between the bogeyman and the world normally meant taking some hits.

Her hip twinged as she turned to find Butters. Another man who made a choice. A choice she made once. To pick up a sword to carry the burdens of humanity. To be the hands and tool of the divine. She hadn't been able to do it for long. Longer than most, Sanya had told her. But not as long as Butters, her brain reminded her. Somehow he had clung on, taking the sword with him, with all it entailed.

Had she been not worthy? Had she been not good enough? Or was it all just a choice? A choice to protect Chicago, rather than to protect the world? To protect what was hers rather than what was His? 

The consequences of their choices were clear. Butters stood, discussing something with Sanya. She sat, her back twisting into agonising pain as she tried to recover from the rough bumps of their hysterical trolley adventure. Butters exuded calm, hope, peace. Light almost seemed to glow from the sword sheathed carefully at his side. Everyone here knew what that sword could do. She felt….something. Bitterness? Envy? Regret?

She gripped the cane that someone had kindly lent her and moved across the floor. She had been put in charge. She didn't feel in charge. She hated being in charge. It always went wrong. People got hurt. People died. There was that feeling of helplessness, of terror and pain at every person that died. Leadership meant making choices that had consequences for other people. Leadership meant judging what consequences meant for other people.

Sanya eyed her up. "You are ready?"

She paused, long enough for Butters to shake his head. "Don't do it Murph. These people need you."

"Run, hide or fight." Karrin echoed Harry's earlier words. "Are  _ you _ ready?"

"Harry wanted you to stay here. To help here." Butters gripped her hand for a second, "This is where he needs you. This is where they need you."

Murphy followed his eyes around the room. A father, pacing the room, tossing his car keys between his hands. Gary, in the corner, muttering to himself as he seemingly burrowed himself into a corner. The werewolves, stretching their lithe bodies. Run. Hide. Fight.

Her grip tightened on her cane.

"Why does he get to make my choice for me?"

Sanya's eyes settled on her calmly. Disconcertingly so. There was no trace of his accent for once. "This will not end well."

"Can you see me doing this?" She gesticulated around the room, "Sitting at the back, sending my boyfriend out to fight whilst I linger in the background  _ slowing him down _ ."

"Karr-" Butters tried to interject.

"Do I become his secretary, handling every being that wants a moment of his time as he fights off one terror after another?" She felt it. The moment her choices began to coalesce around her. The air seemed to tremble with potential. "I am his shield. I am his second. And he does not make my choices."

"You always have a choice."

"And I have made it."

Sanya sighed. Took a deep breath. Sighed again. "I see we are outvoted. One to two." He held up a hand, cutting Butters off. "You will need transport."

"I'll take a bike."

"Weapons." Sanya frowned, "We have some supplies. We will share. They will be big."

"Kincaid covered big."

"And you will need to say goodbye." Sanya indicated towards the bartender, who had carefully not been listening to their heated conversation. "He will need to know you are not under his protection."

She turned without a word, feeling her decisions settle around her. 

"You're going." Mac grunted. "Bad idea."

"It's my choice."

He didn't reply.

"This is goodbye."

"It is." He nodded. "I've enjoyed your company."

"It's only a goodbye."

His silence felt different this time, more pointed, as if he was staring into her soul. Until finally, "Goodbye then."

"For now?" She didn't mean to make it a question, but it slipped out as one.

"For now."

She almost reached the door before he spoke again.

"Don't be afraid."

She dropped her cane on the floor as she opened the door, feeling the cold in front of her battle the warmth behind her. She smiled, feeling everything settle in place around her.

"I'm not."

And then she stepped outside.


End file.
